


The Narrative

by kethni



Category: Veep (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:27:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24095824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni
Summary: ‘What are you doing?’‘Regretting my life choices.’
Relationships: Kent Davison/Sue Wilson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	The Narrative

~~It was a dark and~~

~~Thunder rattled and~~

~~The rain was~~

‘What are you doing?’

‘Regretting my life choices.’

Sue walked into the study and rested her hand on the back of Kent’s chair. ‘You’re writing again?’

‘I’m writing opening lines and deciding that they’re terrible,’ Kent said.

Sue shrugged. ‘That’s a part of your process.’

‘It’s a part of failing in my process.’

‘Failing is part of your process.’

He looked up at her. ‘Ouch.’

‘Don’t be precious. Everyone fails.’ She thought about it. ‘Except me.’

He snorted. ‘Then you don’t know what you’re talking about, do you?’

‘Don’t take your bad mood out on me.’ Sue slapped his hand.

‘Apologies,’ he said quietly. ‘Frustration rarely brings out the best in me.’

She slipped in front of him and sat on his lap. He put his arms around her rested his hands comfortably on her legs.

‘What’s the problem? Is it that you haven’t planned properly?’

‘Possibly. I haven’t planned but I rarely plan from the beginning. I generally find a general direction first and then work out how to get there.’

Sue leaned back against him. ‘Perhaps you need a break to recharge your creative batteries.’

‘I’m concerned that I might not return to it if I do.’

‘That seems unlikely. Nonetheless, we will try something else.’ She pursed her lips. ‘What stories are you interested in telling? Are you more interested in plot or character?’

Kent looked at her. ‘Plot, I think.’

‘You’re not sure? Perhaps that uncertainty is fuelling your difficulty.’

He pulled a face. ‘There’s a lot of nonsense spoken about muses and inspiration. As if each creative work is gifted by the Gods when the truth is that it is all work. Sometimes there maybe be more excitement and engagement with it but it is all work. Training oneself to work despite having no burning excitement is at least as important as learning about narrative structure and other facets of the craft.’

‘Don’t call it a craft,’ Sue said.

‘It is.’

‘It’s pretentious. Nobody likes that.’

‘You’d be surprised,’ Kent said. ‘Lots of critics seem unnaturally fond of pretension.’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘Fine. But it doesn’t suit you. A little mannered perhaps but not pretentious.’

‘It’s fortunate that I have a rigorous sense of self-worth or these insults might be hurtful.’

Sue ignored this and looked at the page. ‘You’re trying to set the story during a storm? Why?’

Kent shrugged. ‘I suppose that it’s dramatic. Sympathetic weather is a classic.’

She shook her head at him. ‘It’s lazy. You want something dramatic? Make it sunny and warm.’

‘What? Balmy weather isn’t dramatic!’

‘It is if you write it to be,’ Sue insisted. ‘Now is not the time to be lazy and bored, Kent. Expand your horizons. Try new things.’

‘That might be terrible,’ he protested.

‘Better to fail at something new and interesting than succeed at something stale and creatively starved,’ she said, standing up.

‘You wouldn’t take that risk,’ Kent said.

Sue put her hand on her hip. ‘I would never have the problem.’

‘That’s not a helpful attitude,’ he grumbled.

‘I don’t owe you any kind of _attitude_ ,’ she said, and sashayed away.

‘ _Dad_.’

No.

‘ _Dad._ ’

No.

‘ _Dad, if you don’t turn off the stupid thing, I swear I’m going to!_ ’

The room was brightly lit. Sunshine flooded through the windows, turning the dust motes in the air into dancing fragments of things long past. There was nowhere here for shadows to hide. Nowhere for charming lies to live.

Suzette had her hand on her hip. ‘I was calling you for like an hour.’

‘I told you that I was busy,’ Kent said. ‘Friday afternoons aren’t a good time.’

‘Dad, come on, I haven’t spoken to you in three days. I was worried.’

‘I’m fine,’ he promised.

She flicked the helmet with her finger. ‘How often are you in that thing?’

‘I’m your father, Suzy, not your child,’ he said firmly. ‘I don’t have to explain or defend myself to you.’

‘It’s not healthy, Dad,’ she said. ‘You need to move on. Meet new people.’

Kent stood up. He was a little stiff from being seated, not that he would admit that, but it would pass quickly enough. ‘I don’t want to meet new people.’ He put the helmet down on the desk.

Suzette followed him out of the room. ‘That’s not true.’

‘Yes, it is.’

‘What about the meeting with the VR people?’ Suzette asked. ‘Your last script sold gangbusters.’

Kent glanced at her over his shoulder. ‘You can’t complain about me spending time in VR and then encourage me to write VR scripts.’

She moved around in front of him. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I assumed that you were in one of your simulations with mom. Wallowing in misery. But apparently you were solving an exciting murder mystery. Cool! Which one was it? There will be a questionnaire.’

Kent looked her in the eye. ‘I’m getting a little tired of being badgered, Suzy.’

‘Yeah?’ She returned his gaze. ‘I’m getting tired of my father refusing to live because my mother died. She wouldn’t want this. She would be _so_ annoyed at you!’

‘Well she’s dead,’ he snapped. ‘So, who cares what she would think?’

Suzette crossed her arms. ‘You care,’ she said quietly. ‘I care.’

‘Can I get past?’

‘I’m making you an appointment to see someone,’ she said.

He felt the warmth drain from his face. ‘I am not going into a home.’

‘What?’ She shook her head. ‘A grief counsellor. You need counselling or antidepressants or… a really good fuck. I don’t know what you need, Dad, but they will. They’ll know and we’ll get it for you.’

He tilted his head. ‘You’re going to get me “a really good fuck” are you?’

The colour didn’t show in her cheeks, but he knew from the way she bit her lip that she was embarrassed. ‘If that’s what you need. Yes.’

‘You think that’s what your mother would want, do you?’

‘I think she’s probably so annoyed with you that she wants to throw a shoe at the wall,’ Suzette said. ‘And if I hired you a sex worker or rented you a porn bot, she would act disgusted but inside she would be laughing so much.’

Kent sighed. ‘Yes, you’re probably right. But under _no_ circumstances ever _rent_ a porn bot. The amount of diseases…’

Suzette laughed. ‘Okay, fine. I’ll _buy_ you a sex robot, but you still have to go to the grief counsellor.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with grieving,’ Kent said.

Suzette nodded. ‘And there’s nothing wrong with moving on.’

The End.


End file.
